The Truth
by KindOfPreHarris
Summary: When a habitual liar is briefly forced into honesty – what he says could wreck his friendship. He has to get into the girls’ dorms to apologise. The problem is, how?
1. Chapter 1

**Title**: The Truth

**By**: PreHarris

**Disclaimer**: Everything you recognise belongs to JK Rowling, Bloomsbury, and Warner Bros. Everything you don't is mine.

**Rating**: PG-13

**Summary**: When a habitual liar is briefly forced into honesty – what he says could wreck his friendship. He has to get into the girls' dorms to apologise. The problem is- how?

**A/N**: This story came about as a cure for writer's block. **silvercrackle** kindly gave me the plot bunny and **vampydora** did some great beta work. The story is in three parts – this is the first.

**Chapter One – Downstairs**

There were three stages most people usually went through upon meeting Jack Dillion. The first was "Realising that Jack spoke absolute rubbish." The third, "Wanting to beat Jack into a bloody pulp", was the stage his pursuers were currently at.

Over the last eight years Jack had really honed his talent for sprinting away from angry people. He was almost a corridor ahead of them…if he made a sharp, unexpected left up ahead, and then dived into the library, they would think he had gone on to the Gryffindor Common room and take a sharp right to cut him off at the staircase before it changed on the hour.

He pushed himself forward harder, made a sharp left, and then it was just a matter of throwing himself through the library doors before they got to the corner and hexed him.

He pushed himself through the door with unexpected relief, and then made a beeline for the potion section, which had the heaviest books and the highest bookcases to hide behind.

Madam Pince glared at him for his mussed robes andloud panting, but he sauntered on regardless, waiting for the sound of the door moving behind him.

There were voices raised outside, probably debating where he had gone. For extra precaution he crouched low and gently slid two thick books from the shelf. It was a narrow squeeze but it would leave just enough room for him to crawl through and hide behind the row of books. He pushed himself through and straightened out flat in the dust. Once the two books were back in place, no onecould know he was there.

Several people had entered the library, one stopped to murmur something to Madam Pince, but he heard footsteps as the rest moved around with a more determined footstep than normally heard in the library.

There was a click of low heels heading towards the potions section; he calculated quickly who that narrowed it down to. They weren't Pince's flat shoes, but they could be Leanne Moon's – a girl who was last seen chasing him down a corridor…oh, about thirty seconds ago.

The shoes moved closer, they were directly in front of him. He tried not to breath and screwed his eyes shut in the dark. If he'd wanted to risk making noise he would have been murmuring "Go away, please, please go away…"

"Have you seen Dillion?"

It was Frankie Packers, who had been several feet _ahead _of Leanne Moon just seconds ago.

"No, I think he's gone up to the Common Room."

Jack could have whooped – not only because Frankie was discreetly calling his gang out of the library, but because the voice who had just spoken was wonderfully, marvellously familiar.

He pushed the books in front of him apart slightly, just enough to wriggle a hand through, and snatched the ankle that was gliding past. There was a yelp, a whisper of apology to Madam Pince, and then a face appeared in front of him.

"Jack?"

With blonde hair, a cheeky grin, and a growing bust, Penny Daly's body and personality held quite a lot of romantic interest for Jack. She wasn't every student's dream girl, but she liked him, flirted his socks off, and usually got told off for talking in lessons more than he did. The thought of her had sustained Jack through many chases such as this.

"Hi Catfish," he said. It wasn't a particularly suave greeting, he realised with an inner groan, but she smiled anyway.

"Hullo Trouble. We have to stop meeting like this."

"Help me out of here will you?"

She obligingly moved several of the heavier books and pulled him out of the gap. He stood, wheezing in the dust, and attempted to brush the remainder off of his robes. Penny sneezed.

"That was close, wasn't it?" she said, brushing her nose. "Normally you make it to the Common Room before they corner you. Are you unwell?"

"I'm very sick," he said in his best deadpan voice. He tried not to glance down to her chest as he spoke. He tried not to. She was his friend and he wasn't _entirely_ sure she knew that he fancied her.

"I bet you are. Watch yourself though – this flu bug is everywhere. Pomfrey is _beside _herself."

They rearranged the books, picked up their bags, and wandered out into the corridor.

"I remember a flu bug like this," said Jack. "It hit my Primary School – St. Birklestock's – people dropping like flies…you don't want to _know _what happened to the PE teacher…"

Penny chuckled.

"Well okay…it involved him getting so potted on the drugs they gave him he stood up at assembly and announced his love for Miss. Patterson – our nice but ancient Geography teacher. I heard they got married later on actually…"

It was total rubbish of course. Jack loved telling stories, but in the absence of any interesting ones he tended to make them up. He wanted to be cool and exciting, and when he told stories he could slip on that persona and be the coolest person in the school until someone tried to attack him. Without the stories he just stammered and mumbled. Penny knew he talked crap – but he was absolutely certain she liked him anyway. He hated to think what she'd say if she saw the real him.

"Were you a bridesmaid then, Trouble?"

He threw an arm around her shoulder and leaned in conspiratorially. "I look very fetching in Lavender silk I'll have you know…"

"Really?" she said. "I had you down for Pink Taffeta myself."

He pulled his arm away reluctantly, casting a boyish grin her way. "Let's face it…I look great in anything."

"That's what they all say at the sleepovers," she said. "Really, if you were even remotely likable as a person, you'd be quite a catch. Bit of a pointy nose, but the grin sort of goes with it."

She didn't see his rather dopey smile for long because she started sneezing again. When she had recovered she looked at him with an odd expression.

"Look Trouble, I mean, Jack…you know we've been friend for ages?"

"Yeah?" he said. Could this possibly be it? The moment when Penny Daly asked Jack Dillion out? The end of a beautiful friendship and the start of a _fantastic_ snog?

"Well, I was thinking…"

"Dillion!" both turned reflexively to the voice. Frankie Packers was bearing down upon Jack. Leanne Moon, Yolanda Wicks, and Kenny Crestburn were right behind Frankie. Penny started sneezing again, and, with an apologetic look at Jack, staggered off up the corridor.

"Hello!" Jack called out jovially. He started surreptitiously searching the corridor for escape routes, but without much luck. He either had to go past them or dive up a flight of stairs where they could easily hex him from behind. "How are we on this fine afternoon?"

"We are…what was it…oh yes…fifty points down today!" snarled Leanne Moon. "Down because _you _kept banging on about absolute rubbish in lessons all day."

"Not to mention twenty yesterday, and sixty the day before," added Yolanda Wicks.

"We can't make points as fast as _you_ loose them," growled Frankie. "If you loose just _one _more point for this house this _year_ I swear I will hex you so hard you won't remember your own name."

"Right, check, no more points." he said with his fingers crossed.

"And you better go do your homework, because our points better be back were they were before you ruined it," said Yolanda.

"Right. Get points back."

"And," added Frankie, with the air of someone who's about to hand out just desserts, "we've got a little something to help you remember."

Jack realised that they wear about to pounce and turned to flee. His superior racing skills got him up to the third step, before Leanne, who was pretty light on her feet, tackled him.

They each grabbed a limb. Jack's wand was in his bag and, pinned to the stairs, he could only struggle as a tiny bottle of potion was tipped into his mouth.The liquidwas warm and smooth and tasted faintly of oysters. It slipped down his throat before he could even try and spit it out.

"This," said Frankie, "is a potion very similar to Verisatium…only it only lasts for one question. It's not quite as hard to get hold of…we could definitely repeat this if you like."

Frankie sat back and gestured for the others to let go of Jack. His limbs felt sleepy – he didn't think he'd be able to get up, let alone run away.

"What should we ask him?" asked Frankie to Leanne. "It's got to be something good."

"Ask him what his most embarrassing habit is," suggested Kenny.

"Ask him if he wets the bed," said Kenny gleefully.

"We can't do that," snapped Leanne. "If he doesn't then it's a perfectly good question wasted."

"What then?" demanded Frankie.

Leanne grinned and stepped up to Jack. She leaned in closely; he wanted to choke on her sugary perfume.

"Hi there Jack," she said with fake kindness. She reached out and smoothed his hair off his head like a mother with a fussing child. "Now…I'm going to ask you something okay?"

He opened his mouth but she slapped a hand down over it before he could speak. "Don't talk until I tell you to…we don't was the potion wasted. Just nod."

Jack felt himself nodding sleepily as though she'd sung him a lullaby.

"Now," she said, "_what is the one thing about yourself you would hate the entire school to know about_?"

Frankie whooped. "Yes! Brilliant!"

"I…" he croaked. "I think…I"

"Yes," Leanne soothed, lifting his head up and stroking his hair. "Take your time, go on…"

"I think I'm in love with Penny Daly."

The words had splurged from his mouth before he even knew what he was going to say. He almost physically reeled in horror.

The other student's reactions were far less sedate. Leanne dropped his head and threw back her own with a great peal of laughter. Yolanda was shrieking herself, and Kenny and Frankie were alternatively howling and guffawing.

"That ugly little blonde girl!" shrieked Yolanda. "She's got all the intelligence and depth of an iceberg!"

"Only an iceberg's prettier!" cried Leanne.

Jack pulled himself into an upright position. Watching in horror as four fifteen year olds broke down over a crush as though they were six. He wondered what they'd do if he mentioned 'boobies'.

"Those are probably the only true words you've ever said to me," chortled Frankie. "And what words they were…"

The group picked up their things, Leanne and Yolanda still crying with laughter, and stalked off leaving Jack slumped on the stairs.

"Is that what truth gets you, huh?" he called after them coldly. "Well, you've won me over!"

Jack was still sitting on the steps when Tony turned up and hour later.

Tony, like Penny, had somehow not passed through the normal three stages of meeting Jack. They had somehow got stuck on 'knowing Jack talks rubbish and liking him anyway'. Jack was still unaware as to how he'd prevented scaring them off.

Tony was athick-set Gryffindor who could spot a lie a mile away. He was a sensible lad who came from honest stock. He himself never lied and saw little point for it. For some reason this gave him a knack for knowing when someone was telling porkies.

His reaction to lies was simple – he ignored them. Jack could spend an hour going on about the time Grindelwald had him over for tea and Tony would turn around and ask about the latest Quidditch match without even acknowledging Grindelwald's silver goblets and bad taste in cutlery.

"I've been looking everywhere for you," said Tony kindly. "It's nearly curfew." He sunk down onto the step next to Jack. "I'm not going to lie to you of all people," he said. "It's bad."

"How bad?"

"The entire Common Room is still talking about it."

"Oh," said Jack. "_That_ bad."

Tony pulled two Chocolate Frogs from his bag and handed one over. "I must say, that was some honesty," he said.

"I didn't do it on purpose," snarled Jack. "They…"

"The potion," said Tony quickly. "They're still talking about that too. I wonder what McGonagall would say if she found out?"

"Honesty," grunted Jack. "When I tell the truth, I _really_ tell the truth, don't I? Even _I_ didn't know that I loved her…I just like her smile…I didn't know it was more than that…"

Tony squirmed as all teenage boys do when their friends mention the L word.

"I could give them a detention?" he offered. "Or I could go to McGonagall."

Jack shook his head. "They said they'd do it again if I got any points taken because of me…I think that means if I get points taken from _them_ too."

Jack's mouth suddenly felt dry. "Does Penny…er…what did she _say_?"

Tony shrugged. "I dunno – she's not in the Common Room – no one's seen her."

Jack groaned and rubbed his face with his hands. "The whole school's laughing at her…I bet she hates me. She's probably in her room crying."

"Not hate," said Tony reasonably. "She might be a bit upset though."

"Oh yeah, just a bit," groaned Jack. "I've _got_ to apologise before it gets any worse."

There was giggling behind them, several girls walked down the steps. One of them made a kissy face at him.

The boys watched them go.

"It's even worse," said Jack.

"I _said_ everyone was talking about it," said Tony.

"Yeah, but those girls aren't in our house. They aren't even in our year!" Jack half shouted. He screwed up the Chocolate Frog wrapper and snatched up his bag. "I've got to apologise to Penny."

Tony picked up his own bag and followed him. "Why? It's not your fault you fancy her."

"Yeah but it's my fault everyone hates me enough to find it funny, I've just got to see her."

They were in luck – sort of – when they reached the common room. The Fat Lady was not in her frame and as it was nearly Curfew nobody came out. They were forced to wait outside until she returned.

This was practically a good turn of events for Jack – who had not fancied going into the girls' dorms with a room full of laughing students watching on.

Tony took a rather dimmer view. "It's freezing out here. She's not_ supposed_ to leave her frame before Curfew. I'm going to talk to the Head Boy about this."

When The Fat Lady returned (staring rather haughtily at Tony, who seemed to want an apology) the Common Room was practically empty but for one rather fat girl from their own year who was sitting in the corner with moon charts and a bag of Honeyduke's sweets.

"Hello Deborah," said Tony kindly. Being a prefect he made it his business to know every student in his year – although he was by no means as good at it as Penny.

"Who's she?" muttered Jack. He had a few essays to be getting on with and was hoping dowdy Deborah would go up before he had to go up the girl's steps.

"She's nice," whispered Tony. "Bit boring, but nice. She's in our year," he added reproachfully.

"Why is she still down here?"

"She doesn't have any friends, she just sits and does her homework or reads her books. She usually stays up late."

"How late?" hissed Jack, trying to concentrate on finding out about an obscure Goblin Hoard.

"_Late_ late."

If Deborah had heard them she made no comment and so Jack screwed up his badly blotted homework and chucked it onto the fire.

"I don't care if she sees, I'm going up _now_," he said.

"See what?" said Deborah, who couldn't fail to miss that.

"I am going up to the girls' dormitory to see my friend. Is that a problem?" asked Jack, slipping into his cocky persona for the first time since before that gang had jumped him.

"The one you fancy?" said Deborah softly.

Jack gaped – he'd just gotten a good look at what his life was going to be like. He could be the coolest, most incredible Wizard in the world. He could moon You-Know-Who should he ever return, marry a Veela, win the Wizarding and the Muggle World Cup, and it wouldn't matter because all his peers would remember was that he _fancied Penelope Daly_.

"Well…I…mean yeah," he stammered. He tried to pull himself back together again. "You got a problem with that?"

Deborah shrugged. "Not really." She went back to her Astronomy homework leaving Jack feeling extremely foolish.

He straightened his robes, briefly ran his fingers through his hair, and then headed up the steps.

He reached the fifth step before the stairs gave way and became smooth under his feet. He slid downwards and landed heavily on the carpet. There was a loud 'pop' and, over his shoes, he now wore a pair of oversized blue high heels.

"That's funny," said Deborah. "Normally it makes a loud Klaxon noise…I suppose it can't do that at night though with everyone sleeping."

Tony tugged one of the heels of Jack's foot and held it up with a snort. "Dumbledore's got a sense of humour – you have to give him that."

"Oh…it goes all the way back to the founders," said Deborah helpfully.

"So not only did they decide to mortify boys when they tried to get into the girls dormitories…they envisioned girls of the future would be wearing sparkly blue shoes too?" said Jack acidly. He got to his feet and kicked off the other shoe. "They're clearly more powerful than previously thought."

Deborah stared at him with large reproachful eyes and then went back to her homework.

"I've got to get up there somehow!" Jack half whined. His cool persona was almost gone. He couldn't even really remember what it was like to have it.

"Wait to tomorrow," shrugged Tony.

"The whole school will know by then!"

"The whole school knows now," said Tony.

Jack slumped into the chair opposite Deborah and shook his head slowly. "I need to talk to her before then. Just to say sorry."

That wasn't entirely true, he couldn't help but think. He did want to say sorry for all the embarrassment, but there was also a small part of him that remembered the way she'd been looking at him before Frankie Packers had pounced...

* * *

So, that was the end of chapter one. Anyone who has written an original character in this fandom knows how hard it can be and how much prejudice there is against them. If you made it this far I'd love to hear your thoughts – even if it's just to tell me you got this far and like/hate it. Was Jack a Gary Stu? Did you dislike Leanne Moon as much as you were supposed to? Did the plot thrill you or kill you? Any comments or constructive critisism are extremely welcome. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Title**: The Truth

**By**: PreHarris

**Disclaimer**: Everything you recognise belongs to JK Rowling, Bloomsbury, and Warner Bros. Everything you don't is mine.

**Rating**: PG-13

**Summary**: When a habitual liar is briefly forced into honesty – what he says could wreck his friendship. He has to get into the girls' dorms to apologise. The problem is- how?

**Chapter Two – Six Downs **

Jack's second attempt to get upstairs required a bit more thought that before. He needed a way to get up the steps without actually touching the floor and flight was the first thing that came to mind.

He went and snatched his much battered but sturdy bag and tossed it to the ground in front of the steps. Tony sunk into Jack's vacated seat and offered Deborah a Chocolate Frog, which was practically his way of saying hello.

Jack rooted around inside it for his wand and then tapped his bag with it. "_Wingardium Leviosa_!"

The bag rose to nearly two feet off the floor. Jack kicked it a few times to make sure it wouldn't drop suddenly and then stepped on board.

"Good idea," said Tony, and promptly turned back to Deborah to discuss the revision for their upcoming OWLs.

Jack swallowed back nausea. He was not good with heights – not if he couldn't work out what exactly held things up. Planes were no problem, he liked those. Hang Gliders were fine. But spells? Brooms? It all seemed a little unsteady to him.

By the time he'd inched the bag far enough up the steps to see the door the Penny's dorm, he was having problems. The bag was shaking under his weight and it was becoming harder and harder to keep the spell trained on the bag.

He pushed on regardless, but suddenly the bag gave an almighty shudder and Jack had to stagger to remain on the bag at all. In doing so the strap dropped onto the steps and the spell immediately died under him. All the parchment and books slid out of the bag and there was a tinkle as he landed on the inkwell which broke and seeped into everything.

The dorm was in sight and the steps were shuddering underneath him. He pushed himself up and sprinted forward even as the steps disappeared underneath his feet. He made one final, desperate leap for the doorknob, but missed and seconds later he, his bag, his ink-soaked parchment and books, and the broken inkbottle landed back on the Common Room carpet.

It was Tony who had talked him into his third plan. Jack was not keen to fly anywhere any time soon. Tony explained, as the three of them charmed Jack's parchment and books dry, that flying with a broom was a totally different experience to a floating bag.

A broom was reliable. A broom was safe. A broom was not designed for carrying your homework around.

Jack had a pretty good idea of what this enthusiasm was leading up to.

"I'll even let you borrow my broom!" said Tony, looking at Jack as though he was personally announcing him Minister of Magic.

Tony's Comet 180. A relic to anyone who knew or cared about brooms, but that didn't bother Tony. This broom had belonged to his Grandfather. This broom was reliable, attractive, and had enough features that no broom ever had or would compare to it.

Jack didn't like brooms. The kind of brooms he was used to had detachable heads and swept his mother's kitchen floor everyday. And while it seemed a fun thing in books, flying about on them in real life was not something Jack had much enthusiasm for.

Still. It was only going to be a short ride. He wouldn't even have to go up high.

He carried it over and gingerly climbed aboard. "Planes, what was wrong with those?" he muttered mostly to himself as he scrambled aboard. "Or helicopters, I don't mind helicopters, or hang gliders…something where you can see what keeps it up…"

He inched the broom forward.

"Don't go too fast!" called Tony. "It doesn't like flying indoors…"

"What?" he called, turning to call over his shoulder. The broom wobbled and jerked down suddenly. "What do you mean 'doesn't like-'"

The broom dropped. Jack reached out automatically for support, slapping his hand down onto the steps.

The broom and Jack out of the air. Tony gave a shout of horror – although whether this was because of the broom or Jack falling onto the steps, Jack was unclear. The steps became smooth, and when Jack slid back onto the carpet, there was a popping and he found himself wearing a fetching blonde wig.

"You gave me a lecture about every move this twig can make and you didn't feel it necessary to mention that it _doesn't fly indoors_?" he spat around a mouthful of blonde hair.

"The model does," said Tony. "When you take into account lack of wind and favourable atmosphere it probably flies faster indoors than out…but er, this one was hexed by my Great-Gran after my Granddad started racing it around the house. It's never been the same since."

"So what are you going to say to Penny when you get up there?" asked Deborah thoughtfully. Jack and Tony were sitting at her table again. Jack was slumped rather dejectedly in the chair, blonde wig still sitting askew on his head.

"None of your business," snapped Jack.

"Jack…" hissed Tony in warning. Jack remembered what Tony had said about Deborah not having any friends and squirmed in apology.

"I don't know," he grunted finally. "But I've still got plenty of time before tomorrow morning to get up there and figure it out." He pulled the blonde wig off his head and tossed it on top of the heels which were tossed into a corner. "And I have an idea that doesn't involve stairs, slides, or girly clothes at all."

He moved over to the fireplace and picked up a handful of Floo Powder. Then he tossed the powder into the flames and climbed in.

"Girl's Fifth Dormitory," he announced.

There was a rush of air and he began to spin nauseatingly quickly, he tucked his arms in and screwed his eyes shut…yet another firm of magical travel he hated. _If Apparition's this bad_, the thought, _I'm getting a car, or a motorbike, or a plane… _

Finally he reached out and there was solid fireplace around him. He stepped out of the ashes, feeling absurdly pleased with his success. He rubbed his eyes and a different sight than expected met him. There were no beds in this room, nor any posters of Quidditch players, and the room was at least half the size of a dormitory.

There was a desk though, a stack of freshly marked homework on top of it. In front of the desk was a chair he had sat on himself just last week to discuss his career…

McGonagall's office!

He scrambled out of the fireplace, frantically searching the mantle for a pot of Floo Powder to get him back. There was a little locked chest that looked like it held the powder.

There were steps outside – she was coming back!

"Alohomora!"

The chest popped open and he hastily grabbed a handful. He dashed back into the grate, only to collide with another had appearing in the fire.

"Did you get through?" asked Tony breathlessly. "Hang on, why are we-"

"Get out!" hissed Jack, pushing his way in, but it was too late – the door to the office opened. McGonagall walked in. Jack immediately felt Tony's hands on his robes and he was dragged back through the grate with a whoosh of green flames.

"How did I end up there?" demanded Jack as he and Tony lay panting in the grate seconds later.

Deborah, unfazed as always, shrugged.

"How should I know? I suppose Hogwarts doesn't allow you to Floo into dormitories so it sent you to the closest grate."

"You didn't mention this before? Why?"

"Well I didn't _know_," said Deborah sullenly. "Where did you end up?"

"McGonagall's office!"

"Did she see us?" asked Tony. He climbed to his feet and looked at the fireplace as though expecting an irate McGonagall's head to appear any moment.

"I don't know," said Jack with a nervous look at the fire.

A minute later, McGonagall's irate head had yet to appear in the fireplace and Jack had calmed down somewhat.

"Why did _you_ come through the fireplace?" demanded Jack, brushing the last of the soot off of his robes.

Tony grinned. "While you were gone, I had a thought. My sister sent me a pot of glue that allows you to walk on ceilings for Christmas! I thought if the Floo thing hadn't worked, you could try that next."

He told them to wait and returned from the boys dormitories with a large pot of what looked like honey.

"From Zonko's," he said proudly. "It wasn't cheap either…"

He opened the pot carefully. There was a brush attached to the lid and when he lifted it the mixture fell back into the pot with a satisfying 'gloop'.

"Come on Deborah, help us." said Tony.

Deborah put her Quill down and wandered over looking less than exhilarated. However, she looked like that most of the time, so it was hard to tell.

Tony took Jack's removed shoes and reverently spread the glue on, pressing them to the wall where they remained stuck. Then between them, Deborah and Tony had to lift him into the shoes and hold him up so that he didn't bend backwards.

Jack pulled one shoe from the wall with a puckering noise, and began to walk upwards with Tony and Deborah still holding him up.

"Let go now," he said when he lifted one foot up to the ceiling. He sounded rather strained, but he couldn't help thinking that the idea of hanging head first from a stone ceiling was much worse than a low flying broom.

He marched bravely on though, trying to ignore thoughts of getting stuck up here. All the blood was rushing to his head and he swallowed back nausea. Still, he had to admit, he was almost past the first door now!

Suddenly there was a noise rather like a plaster being ripped off skin. He yelled as the shoes gave way and he was dropped to the ground. He landed hard on the stone and tumbled down quite a few before they smoothed out.

He glared at Tony and rubbed his sides, only then realising that over his pyjamas he now wore a shimmering cerulean blouse.

"I, should have checked the bottle, shouldn't I?" said Tony meekly. "It, uh, says here that it lasts for _five minutes only_…" he looked down at his shoes, and then brightened. "Still, at least the walls are thick – no one heard that scream."

"Nothing else to do with ceilings, flying, or falling, okay?" he said, glaring at Tony and Deborah as if they were forcing him to do this and fighting to tug the top off his body.

_Would it be so bad to go back to bed and wait for tomorrow_, he couldn't help but think. But some deep inner part of him ignored it, he wanted to know what she had been going to say to him in that corridor. Whether her odd expression had meant something…whether she minded that he liked her.

"I do have another idea," said Tony.

"Does this one last longer than three minutes?" Jack couldn't help but ask. He gave a sort of guilty body shrug that Tony seemed to accept as an apology.

"Yes it does actually. Boys can't get up the stairs, but girls can," said Tony, as if this explained everything.

"And…?" asked Deborah.

"And, so what if a girl_ carried_ you up!"

"And by 'a girl' you mean me," said Deborah. "I can't carry him."

"Of course you could," said Tony, sailing on ahead with the idea. "Jack's built like a bean pole and _you_…" he trailed off.

Deborah closed her book and looked at the carpet. She wasn't an ugly girl, as such, but she had been cursed with big bones and broad shoulders. When combined with her grim face and quiet nature you did often feel as though you were socialising with a tractor.

"Sorry," said Tony.

"Come on," she said with a sigh. She walked over to the stairs and there was a brief discussion about different positions. Jack was tossed about a bit as he was shifted, dropped, and re-arranged. Finally they settled on a piggy-back position, and Jack, uncomfortably aware that this was the closest he'd ever been pressed up to a live girl, allowed himself to be carried upwards.

Within a few steps Deborah was staggering under his weight slightly.

"Um, thanks for this," he said awkwardly. He felt rather unstable being carried by someone who was possibly lighter than him.

She continued carry him, but he received no sign that she wanted to reply.

"Is Penny…you know…a bitof a girly-girl sometimes?" he asked suddenly.

"Don't know her that well."

"Oh," he said, disappointed.

"She doesn't talk to other girls much," said Deborah suddenly. "Just you, and Tony."

He was aware he was sliding lower down her back as she climbed and she began to wobble. He tried to keep the conversation going. "So…uh…no posters of boys…or…or…practicing her signature for when she becomes 'Mrs. Penelope So-and-So?"

"No posters, don't know about the other," said Deborah.

"Oh."

His bottom was sliding lower and lower, if he gripped her neck any tighter she might fall backwards, and his knees, which were being hooked by her arms, were the only things preventing him sliding totally onto the floor.

"Two more doors," she gasped. She tried to readjust him, but his bottom slid, unheeded, onto the steps and the stairs gave way underneath them.

When they reached the carpet, Jack was wearing a turquoise Ra-Ra skirt, and Deborah was wearing a pair of Y-fronts over her skirt.

"Well, I'm out ideas," said Tony.

Jack groaned, they were sitting back in their armchairs again. Tony was eating another Chocolate Frog, but didn't feel inclined to share this time.

"I just…I really wanted to get up there tonight," said Jack.

"I suspect loads of other people have tried to get up there before," said Tony kindly.

"Girls mostly," said Deborah, who was running her fingers along the cover of her book.

"What am I going to say to Penny tomorrow though?" said Jack, miserably thumping the table. "I'll bottle out and I'll be too embarrassed to talk to her, and she'll be too embarrassed to talk to me and we'll just stay that way and start to hate each other."

"Jack, as usual, you are talking crap," said Tony. "People aren't going to talk about this forever. And you can tell her how hard you tried to get up there to talk to her straight away."

Jack sighed and gestured for a piece of chocolate. "Do you really think she'll believe me?" he asked sarcastically.

"The boy who cried wolf," said Deborah.

Jack, who had heard that one more times than he cared to count, ignored her. It was quarter to two, he was just about ready to call it a night. "At least I've got a fetching set of girl clothes," he yawned. "My sister will probably like that Ra-Ra skirt."

"Maybe if you'd worn the clothes the stairs would have let you up," said Deborah, with something that for her was approaching a smile.

Tony laughed.

"Worth a try," said Jack with an indulgent smile.

He pushed himself up and over to the corner where the various silky, lacy, and frilly items have been dumped. "What's one more embarrassment? Turn around a minute."

Tony clearly couldn't believe what Jack was suggesting. Deborah was clearly shocked he was using her idea – and such a silly one at that.

Okay, it was stupid, and embarrassing, and if anyone found out he'd never hear the end of it- but it was one last chance and he'd rather they were talking about him wearing a dress than fancying Penny. He pulled the wig rather haphazardly onto his head, grappled to quickly change out of his robes and jeans, tugged on the thin girly clothes, and forced his feet back into the scary heels.

"Well?" he asked.

"You look…" said Tony, "utterly…daft." But he grinned anyway and Jack felt suddenly incredibly pleased that Tony still liked him whether he lied through his teeth or wore a dress.

"Deborah? Could I pass for a girl?"

Deborah didn't say anything for a moment, just stared, and then for first time he'd ever known, she gave a faint giggle.

"I'm glad I get your seal of approval" he said. Then he threw them a jaunty thumbs-up and tottered towards the stairs.

"Good luck _Jackie_," called Tony.

Jack turned accusingly. "'Good luck _Jacqueline'_, I think you mean. And if this fails – you _both_ have to tell Penny I did this for her."

He stepped gingerly onto the first step. Then he began the long totter upwards in such a painful pair of shoes. He was half way there! He sped up, it was actually working!

Then the pointy toe of the shoe missed the step, he stumbled, tried to balance, and accidentally brushed the wig from his head. It landed on the steps. Seconds later he was rolling downwards again.

He hit the carpet, uncomfortably aware that a large portion of his legs were on display and that his legs were now in cased in a pair of sequined tights.

"Mr Dillion! What on_ earth_ do you think you're doing?"

Deborah and Tony were sitting looking guiltily at the table, and there, in the fireplace, was Professor McGonagall's head.


End file.
